


blood is thicker than water (but you can drown in both)

by quillieur



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Bad Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Child Neglect, Family Dynamics, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, No beta we die like lmanburg, Oops, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, once again i dont know how to tag things, sbi kinda sucks in this, technically, this is very much a vent fic, yeahhh we're kinda happy now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:35:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28616679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quillieur/pseuds/quillieur
Summary: Tommy's family left. He doesn't know why they expected him to stay.Wilbur, Techno, and Phil came home. They don't know why he won't.
Comments: 38
Kudos: 855





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

> if any of the ccs mentioned say they're uncomfortable with this it'll be taken down immediately!

Tommy considered leaving. 

It wasn’t as if he had never considered it before—it’s been in the back of his mind ever since Techno had left, had disappeared and never returned and only sent one letter a year, but even that had dwindled before eventually disappearing—but this was the first time he had dug out his luggage that had been stored in the attic for five years, had emptied his closet and drawers and desk and zipped up the suitcases and stared at his door, praying for something to tell him he could stay. 

Nothing happened, no one walked through and announced themselves, and Tommy stood and stared at his room. 

It wasn’t empty, not by any stretch of the imagination and certainly not like the rest of the house. There was no dust on top of the bookshelf, the bed was slept in, and the door creaked and groaned due to years of constant use. Not like the rest of the house, with an almost empty pantry and closed doors and echoing hallways, because the house was always big for four people but for one person it was a mansion. 

Tommy stood in the doorway of this mansion in the woods, the previously pristine flowerbeds adorning the windows now overrun by weeds because Phil wasn’t there to take care of them, the guitar sat in the kitchen untuned, the strings loose and if a tuning attempt was made, would probably snap because only Wilbur had the golden touch with instruments, the training dummies in the backyard still, not swaying back and forth with the force of Techno’s blade before eventually collapsing only to be replaced the next day. 

Tommy stood in the doorway of this mansion in the woods, luggage in hand and an ache in his heart, and he didn’t cry, because he had no reason to, but he did hurt because he might never find his family again and despite the abandonment, there were still good memories and Tommy missed them despite it all. 

Tommy stood in the doorway of this mansion in the woods and took a deep breath before slamming the door closed and turning his back on his family, on his past because he hadn’t seen any of them in months and that’s what they were now, the past, not the present and never the future because they had left him and he never wanted anything to do with them ever again. 

Eventually, months, years later, Techno and Wilbur and Phil will return, expecting to see the youngest welcome them with open arms. Eventually, they will come across a dark, uncaring, empty house, and they will mourn the loss of their brother and their son, but they will not reach out, because to them he is dead, and to him they died the moment they left. 

And Tommy is happy.


	2. II.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur, Techno, and Phil came home. They don't know why he won't.

The door creaked when it opened, and the resulting echo made Wilbur flinch.

The door creaked when it opened, and the resulting echo made Techno frown.

The door creaked when it opened, and the resulting echo made Phil call out to someone he knew, deep in his gut, would not be there to answer.

A name not spoken in years is spoken into the darkened hallways of this mansion in the woods, and no response comes, and somehow no one is surprised and everyone is shocked.

Wilbur walks in first, eyes scanning helplessly for something to tell him where his brother is. He sees no note, no sign, no promise of return or safety. He sees a guitar, one he had left for his brother, and nearly trips in his rush to see it, to touch it, to run his thumb along the strings and flinch at the discordant, out of tune notes it produces, and he knows.

Techno walks straight through the kitchen, the living room, past the stairs and the dark halls and the memories, exits out the unlocked back door and stands there, on the steps to a field that used to be dirt. He shakes himself out of a stupor and walks to the shed, where weapons and armour lie, opens the door to see dust and cobwebs, and he knows.

Phil stays where he is, turning in the doorway slowly and taking in everything from the flowerbeds that contain more spiders than flowers to the wooden porch that is slowly being eaten by termites to the fox that is watching him through the bushes that line the border of the house. He sees the signs, curses himself for being stupid, and he knows.

They meet again in the kitchen, Wilbur’s face stained with tears, Techno’s face forged in regret, and Phil’s face stoic with shame.

They don’t say anything. They all know, and they know each other know, and they know that their family of four has turned into a family of three, and they know it's their fault. Their house, their mansion in the woods, has become less of a home and more of a prison as they silently resolve to wait for a sign, any sign, that he’s okay, that he’s alive, that he loves them and is returning.

On the other side of the world, in a field dotted with flowers and the promise of hope, Tommy lies in the grass and stares up at the clouds. Tubbo lands next to him, grins and offers a flower crown, and as a smile creeps upon Tommy’s face and bees nudge his fingers, he realizes that he is happy, and forgets about his family the way they forgot about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what if i made this into a thing. haha jk.
> 
> unless?


	3. III.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone else leaves. Tommy panics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ty all for the nice comments! im not able to respond to them all because i would be repeating myself and also anxiety, but im reading all of them and they mean so much to me!!

“Do you really have to go?” 

If anyone asked, Tommy would vehemently deny he was whining. He was upset, sure, but there wasn’t the high pitch that signaled a whine, and he had a right to be upset considering Niki was leaving, and who knows when she would return. 

“Sorry, Tommy,” the woman in question said as she stood from crouching, a large bag taking up her hands. “But you know how important this is to me. It’s—“

“—a once in a lifetime opportunity to learn magic that you’ll probably never get a chance to take again,” Tubbo quoted with a smile. Niki gestured to him with her head as she started walking towards the door and, with a groan, Tommy followed. 

“Well, yeah, I get that,” he grumbled as he picked up a box and stumbled slightly with the weight of it. “But why do you have to leave?”

He was being childish, he knew, and deep down there was a twinge of guilt left over from Before, but he figured he deserved to act his age considering someone was leaving again. 

Niki set the bag in the cart and turned to Tommy as he did the same. “Tommy. It’s not forever.”

His mind flashed to Wilbur against his will, to promises of return and songs when he got back and a door left closed, and he frowned. “You don’t know that.”

“I’ll be back in a few months. You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

“That’s just not true,” Tubbo said as he exited the house, balancing three boxes in his arms. “You do, like, half the baking around here. And, who’s gonna teach us when you’re gone? Thanks.” Niki took the boxes and piled them into the cart. “It won’t be the same without you.”

“You guys are so dramatic,” Niki huffed as she hopped onto the cart. “It won’t even be that long! Plus, you’re a—“ she grimaced— “competent baker, Tubbo, and Fundy and Eret can teach you guys. You’re not completely helpless.”

“If I have to eat another one of Tubbo’s cakes, I’m gonna stab someone,” Tommy muttered, and Tubbo shoved him with his elbow. They both fell silent as Niki secured her items and climbed onto her horse, fondly named Percy by the older teen, and grabbed the reins with a secure hand. 

She smiled, said, “Be good,” and like that, Percy was off, the cart rattling over the uneven dirt paths that were the best thing this tiny village had of roads, and Tommy panicked. 

Another person was leaving him, and the situation felt painfully familiar. Phil had left on a horse, a brown one, just like Percy, had ruffled Tommy’s hair and promised treats in a mockery of Wilbur (but he hadn’t known, he was out on a trip when Wilbur left, and yet his father didn’t seem distraught, even as the days and weeks and months dragged on and he didn’t return), but nothing was supposed to be different this trip. It was just a day trip and he’d be back in time for dinner, Phil had said, and like that he was off. 

Tommy spent the next week on the porch, praying, begging, pleading before he finally realized that he was alone. Despite Tubbo at his side, nearly pressed into him, that feeling was back. 

“Wait!” Tommy stepped forward and Tubbo flinched backwards but it was too late, Niki was already nearly at the bridge that crossed the river and then she’d be gone, because beyond the river was a forest and kids weren’t allowed in the forest. 

And so he did what he didn’t do last time. Tommy ran. 

He could hear Tubbo calling out behind him, confused and concerned, but he ignored it. Niki couldn’t leave, because if she left, she’d never come back, because Tommy drove everyone away and—

She was over the bridge. 

Niki went over the bridge. 

Niki was on her way into the forest, and soon she’d be gone, and Tommy would never see her again. 

He slid to a stop at the edge of the river. She was just entering the tree line now, and there was no way she could hear him now, not with the river racing between them, and he almost collapsed against the tree next--

The tree. 

Tommy looked up so quickly he could’ve sworn he got whiplash, his eyes tracing a path through the interlocking branches. It might not work, but it was his best shot at Niki hearing him and turning around and staying. Before he could start climbing, however, someone grabbed his arm.

“Tommy, what’s up with you?” Fundy was there, Tubbo not far behind, panting, and even behind him was a small crowd; Puffy, Sam, Jack, even Dream was there, his green cloak blending in with the bushes surrounding Niki’s bakery, and that just reminded Tommy of what he had to do, so he yanked his arm out of the grip it was in and jumped.

He latched onto a branch with little difficulty and pulled. Soon he was doing it over and over, grabbing and pulling and standing and grabbing and pulling and standing and then he was sitting on a branch.

And Niki was gone.

He scrambled forward, leaning over the river, and by now the crowd below the tree consisted of the entire village, all yelling and clambering and telling Tommy to get off that tree, now, you’re gonna hurt yourself, all while Tommy frantically scanned the treeline. She had to be there, somewhere, she couldn’t just be gone, not like that.

With a sinking stomach, Tommy realized that he never said goodbye.

“Tommy! Please, it isn’t--”

“Niki! Come back!”

“Get down from the tree, Tommy!”

“Niki, please, you don’t have to leave--”

“The tree--!”

“Don’t leave, please, not again--”

“Just come down, Tommy--”

“Niki! Niki, please—“

A crack rang through the air, silencing both the boy in the tree and the crowd below it. 

“Tommy,” Fundy said in a warning, concerned tone, but it was too late. 

Tommy fell.

The river rose up to meet him, to swallow him, to drown him and he fell, and there was another horrible crack that echoed through his skull as he crashed into the water and was dragged downstream. His vision blanked for a moment, and when it returned he could see nothing but murky blue, and he panicked, opening his mouth and immediately swallowing water, choking and gasping and thrashing as he moved downstream.

In his struggling, he slammed against a rock and pain soared through his leg and he gasped again, swallowing more water. Darkness edged at his eyesight, threatening to take over, and for a moment he relented, closing his eyes and going limp.

And then something grabbed his shirt, and he was out of the water.

He didn’t do anything, he couldn’t see anything, he couldn’t hear anything beyond the ringing in his ears, and he was out of the water somehow.

His hearing and his vision came back in one fell swoop as he suddenly coughed, water violently spilling from his mouth as panicked talking filled his ears, but he couldn’t understand any of it. His throat and mouth burned as coughing turned into vomiting, and he was turned on his side, which brought the previously forgotten leg pain to the forefront, and he groaned.

The talking stopped, and for a long, terrible moment, Tommy thought his hearing had gone, until inaudible whispering filled his ears and lulled him to sleep.

As he passed out, he thought he heard the name Wilbur, but that was impossible, because as far as he was concerned, his brother was dead, and with that thought everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is a thing now, with longer chapters and (gasp) dialogue! that's a first.
> 
> i currently plan on updating once a week but considering i'm already very late, we'll see how that goes. i also dont know how long this is gonna be, so that's another thing we'll find out together (/hj)
> 
> again, ty all for the kudos and the comments and support! :D


	4. IV.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur receives a message, and Phil comes to a decision.

The house was quiet.

It always was, these days, and Phil suspected it had been since he left for the last time. He hadn’t meant to leave; the journey was supposed to take a week at the very most, but he had gotten caught up in… well, he can’t even remember. Something to do with the Nether, if he had to guess.

Funny. The last straw for his son, and he doesn’t know why he didn’t come home. 

The thought froze him where he was sitting. He doesn’t know why Tommy left, and he suspects he never will, but was him leaving really the last straw? There was no sure way to tell; you can’t measure time from the dust on the shelves. Did his fathers absence break the camel's back, or did he leave in spite of it? Was he dragged out, kicking and screaming, by thieves? 

Was it even his own choice to leave?

There was no note, no hidden diary, hell, not even a sign of a struggle. The front door was locked, but the back door wasn’t. Windows were firmly closed, no shattered glass to be found (except when Wilbur found a vase, broken into countless pieces, hidden in the back of the pantry. No one left the house that day), no formerly bent and burst window frames that would indicate replacement.

There was nothing to show Tommy had ever even lived in this house, as if once Phil had left, Tommy had too, as if he was a ghost who needed people to ground him.

He was dragged out of his thoughts by loud footsteps in the front of the house, and there was Wilbur, out of breath and communicator in hand, wide-eyed. Phil immediately stood up in a panic, his chair scraping against the wooden floor, and Techno appeared from upstairs.

“Phil,” Wilbur said, leaning against the wall and struggling to catch his breath. “Problem-- medical something-- oh holy shit.”

“Jesus, Wil, sit down.” Phil raced over and put his hand on his son’s back, guiding him to a seat. Techno made his way fully down the stairs, leaning against the banister, and Phil noticed he kept an eye on the front door. 

It was silent again, just Wilbur’s wheezing breaths and Techno’s foot tapping loudly against the floor, the sounds echoing into the heavy air and making Phil’s shoulders tense. 

“My friend, Fundy,” Wilbur said after a long minute, one hand on his chest and the other gripping his communicator with white knuckles. “He lives in a small village not too far from here, and he says there’s a medical emergency, uh…” he trailed off as he double-checked the message. “Teenager fell into a river, cracked his head open and broke his leg. And he wants you to go, ‘cause they don’t have anyone well-versed in healing.” 

His words hung in the air, and Phil sat down in his own chair with a heavy sigh. He didn’t want to leave. There was still the chance that…

As if reading his mind, Techno said, “He’s been gone for months before we got home. If he was planning on returning at any point, don’t you think he would’ve already?”

Phil didn’t reply, just stared at the table in front of him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go--any excuse to leave the stifling air of the house was a welcome one, and he felt bad for the injured kid--but he was tired. He wanted his family to be whole again, but there was a Tommy sized gap that was the elephant in the room, and no one was inclined to address it.

Except now.

“You don’t know that, Techno,” Wilbur said quietly. “He’s gonna come back. He has to come back. Stop being pessimistic.”

“I’m not being a pessimist, Will. I’m being realistic. He’s been gone for, what, weeks? Months? He would’ve left a note or a message or something if he was coming back. He’s not.”

“Boys,” Phil said weakly, but he was ignored.

“You barely know him! You left when he was a kid, you have no right--”

“He’s still a kid, and you left too--”

“Boys!” 

Wilbur and Techno both froze. Phil almost never raised his voice, especially once they had found out Tommy had left; their father had been subdued, distant, even. But right now, he didn’t want to deal with the argument that happened at least once a week.

“Tommy’s not going to come back,” he said quietly, and Wilbur made a pained, strangled noise. “But he’s still out there. And while I’m away, while I help this kid… I’ll look for him. If it kills me, I’ll find him. Send me the coordinates of the town, Wilbur.”

Silence settled over them like a blanket. It wasn’t comfortable, not with the tension so thick Phil could practically see it, but it was grounding. That silence could’ve lasted for seconds or it could’ve lasted for hours, he didn’t know, but it came to an end with the scraping of a chair on the floor. Wilbur was standing now, his face unreadable in its neutrality, but the way his hands gripped the chair and the communicator spoke volumes. 

As Wilbur looked at Phil, he realized that his son was tired. They all were; exhausted from their travels and the nightmares that resulted from them. There was a weariness in his eyes, something that came from either age or--

He didn’t want to think about it, and luckily he was spared from doing so.

“Phil,” Techno said slowly, and he paused for a moment, searching for what to say. “I hope you find him,” he decided on, “but don’t run yourself ragged trying to look for him. Kids smart; if he wants to be gone, he’s gone.”

Phil just nodded.

Quiet was a recurring theme nowadays. No one quite knew what to do to fill the silence, so they didn’t do anything, just sat or stood with a mouth firmly locked and a million thoughts straining to get through. This silence was no less tense, but it was wary as well, as if there was a rabid dog pacing a few meters away and one wrong step could lead to catastrophe. 

Eventually, they left. Wilbur went up to his room, and later one could hear the quiet dissonance of an out of tune guitar if one tried hard enough. Techno disappeared to the back of the house, maybe checking the locks and supply of the tool shed for the thousandth time, or maybe pulling out his own unused sword and practicing for the first time since his return. Phil packs the medical necessities he thinks he’ll need and then some, and then some more, and finds himself at the door. 

No one came to see him off. They know he’ll return, someday. They have communicators to contact him in case something happens, but the house is secluded and the two can hold their own if need be. Phil left quietly; no fuss, no dragged out goodbyes. He found himself taking off his cloak, bundling it up, and spreading his wings. 

It felt good. Being cooped up in the house, large as it was, hadn’t given him time to properly stretch his wings, and he relished in the feeling of the wind ruffling the feathers. For one, peaceful moment, it was just him and the ground and the sky. 

Phil would deny for the rest of his days that he startled when his communicator pinged. It was just Wilbur, sending the coordinates of the town that his friend and the injured child were in, and a smiley face. The town was closer than he thought it would be, and he figured that the flight there wouldn’t take too long and the kid would be fixed up by nightfall. Then he could (hopefully) stay for the night and circle around the nearby villages over the course of the next week. Just to check. 

He took one long look at the house. It seemed empty. Dark. All the blinds were closed and the doors were shut and the general mistreatment of the house was obvious, making the whole thing seem like it would be better suited as a cheap haunted house. Seeing it like this, he could almost understand why his youngest had left.

Almost.

With that thought, Phil sighed and took off into the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i guess my best writing is done between midnight and 3am cause thats when like. 85% of this was written.
> 
> ty again for all the support!! im so excited to continue this :D

**Author's Note:**

> me? projecting? nahhhhhh


End file.
